


My Fortress, My Saviour

by ryukoishida



Series: In You my Heart Trusts [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2481935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke wakes up in the hospital after the shootout with a worried Makoto watching over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Fortress, My Saviour

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a follow-up of “My Strength, My Shield”, so it’s probably a good idea to read that first. Also a little background of ex-cop, now bodyguard Sousuke.

            “Officer Yamazaki, care to explain to me what the hell happened yesterday?” The middle-aged man, in his navy blue uniform and a severe, hard look to his battle-weary face despite being only in his late thirties, threw down a neatly filed stack of paper on top of his excessively neat mahogany desk. 

 

            Sousuke Yamazaki did not bat an eye at what he knew to be his supervisor’s action report of yesterday’s case, only keeping his cool stare straight ahead at a spot just to the left of the seated man’s head. 

 

            He pursed his lips but said nothing.

 

            “Well?” From the increasingly intensifying of the pen-tapping against the desk, Sousuke could tell that the police inspector – the squad leader of their station – was getting impatient. 

 

            “I don’t know what to tell you, sir,” the dark-haired man replied crisply, his back rod-straight with his hands clasped at his back. “Sergeant Serizama seems to have done a very good job describing everything I did in that report there.” He nodded at the file on the desk, his lips twitching in slight distaste; he didn’t need to flip through the pages to see what their team leader had written about his behaviour during yesterday’s operation. “I have nothing to add.”

 

            Sousuke is the kind of man who never regrets the decisions he’s made if he was certain he was doing the right thing. This was no exception.

 

           “Then let me tell you something,” Inspector Sugimoto leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table, fingers crisis-crossed into a steeple as he gazed sharply up at the junior officer who remained as passive as before, unmoved by the intimidation that radiated from the older man. “From the moment you started questioning Sergeant Serizama’s orders, you’ve already got one foot out of the police force.”

 

            “If my commander gives me questionable orders, I think I should maintain the right to fight for my own stance and state my concerns,” Sousuke replied, his tone quiet and firm. 

 

            “Officer Yamazaki, don’t overstep your boundary,” the inspector warned. “What your field supervisor chooses as the best option is not for you to judge whether or not it’s the correct decision. Your only job is to follow the orders you’ve been given; it’s as simple as that.”

 

            “So are you telling me that given the hostage is obviously in immediate danger, with the suspect on the verge of shooting him at point-blank range, it was still wrong of me to shoot the suspect down, all because Sergeant Serizama was too wishy-washy to give the order?” His voice was trembling just the tiniest. 

 

            It was getting harder and harder to maintain his composure, as the image of the eight-year-old who was sobbing uncontrollably in the suspect’s restraint, crying for his life, his parents, his god, begging the killer to spare him please, filled his mind once more, and Sousuke had to clamp his eyes shut for a moment to shut out everything around him: the boy’s screams, the man’s animalistic snarls of threats, the sound of a bullet finding its target with a bang and thud that penetrated skin and muscle and bones. 

 

            “You were told explicitly to wait until back-up comes,” Inspector Sugimoto’s voice was stern, not allowing any room to argue. “But you didn’t wait; that is outright disobeying your commander, and if the academy has drilled one thing into all of us, it should be obedience. Clearly, you feel your commander’s orders are beneath you as you chose to act on your own whim. Not only that, but even now, you’re still unrepentant of what you’ve done.”

 

            “Because I did nothing wrong,” Sousuke finally snapped, sharp teal eyes defiantly glaring at the investigator’s strangely tranquil ones. The statement rang hollow in the office, and hung heavily in the air like a miasma of poison that refused to dissipate. 

 

            Investigator Sugimoto leaned back on his chair, his mouth set in a firm line as he delivered the final judgement, “The bureau does not need an officer who cannot do something as simple as following commands.” He didn’t say it out loud; he didn’t need to. 

 

            Sousuke was about to defend himself as a reflexive reaction, perhaps to yell some sense into this old, weary man or perhaps to scream himself raw, but he did neither of those things. Instead, he let out a slow, steady breath, and then pulled out the gun that was strapped to his waist and the badge he’d been carrying proudly for the last two years. He placed both items that used to signify his status as an honourable member of Japan’s criminal investigation bureau before the investigator, who said nothing in return, only eyeing him silently as if to expect Sousuke to beg for a second chance. 

 

            Well, he was going to be disappointed. 

 

            Sousuke looked at him straight in the eye, unflinching, stood at attention and saluted one last time before he turned around and walked out without another word.

 

-

 

            He begins to stir as he feels the gentle warmth of sunlight touching his eyelids. Everything from his neck down to his toes feels heavy and stiff as if he’d been asleep for a lifetime.

 

            The memory of the day he left the police force ebbs away into a distant pool of colours. He isn’t sure why he was dreaming about that particular scene just before he wakes up, as it always leaves him with a bitter taste in the end.

 

            He forces his eyes open, squinting at the sudden onslaught of brightness, and a bland, white ceiling stares back at him. Now that his senses are gradually waking up, the stench of disinfectant forces its way into his nostrils, informing him that he is currently in the hospital. 

 

            He must have gotten pretty beaten up to be sent here. Sousuke remembers the hot sting as the bullets graze against his skin, leaving lines of ruby; one found its way through his thigh and the other tear through his right shoulder. Despite this, he supposes he should count this as a blessing as he didn't get killed given the turnout of the incident.

 

            He remembers seeing the retreating back of Makoto Tachibana, and the way the man's lips had felt against his for the briefest moment, adrenaline and blood flowing freely within their bodies.

 

            He tries to wiggle his fingers to get some feeling back, and he's relieved to find that his limbs are only numb because he hasn't been moving them in awhile. Carefully, Sousuke shifts his head to the side, expecting to find another patient resting in the bed next to his, but what he ends up finding is a much more pleasant sight.

 

            Sitting by his bed on what must have been a very uncomfortable chair is Makoto's sleeping form, his upper torso slumping entirely forward so that his head and arms are resting on the bed with his face angled towards Sousuke.

 

            His hair seems even more disarrayed than usual, and Sousuke vaguely wonders how long the brunet has been staying by his side. He's clearly exhausted, his eyes closed with bruised shadows underneath his lashes and face relaxed into an almost angelic expression despite his rugged appearance from recent endurance of stress and lack of sleep.

 

            Out of nowhere, Sousuke feels a strong urge to run his fingers through that messy brown hair, and his hand inches closer until the wisps of his hair tickle his fingertips, and he halts, remembering what kind of position he's in, and how incredibly unprofessional he'd seem if Makoto has chosen this precise moment to wake up with his bodyguard's hand in his hair. 

 

            As if he can sense Sousuke's indecision, Makoto mumbles something unintelligible as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, momentarily disoriented by the position he's been sleeping in. When confused green gaze meets amused teal, Makoto sits up straight as if he's been electrocuted, cheeks staining red.

 

            "Morning, sunshine," Sousuke chuckles, though he winces when he hears the his own croaky voice, his throat feeling like it's grating against sandpaper; he coughs, jostling his bandaged injuries which he hasn’t noticed until sharp pain shoots up from his leg and shoulder. “Ah, fucking hell!”

 

             “You okay? Do you need water? Uh, let me get the doctor!” Makoto is looking frantically between the water jug on the bedside table and towards the doorway, where he can see nurses walking by.

 

            When Sousuke gains his breath back enough to speak, he touches the back of Makoto’s hand, which is still placed on the mattress, and the contact immediately draws Makoto’s attention back to the man in bed. “Just water is fine.”

 

            “Oh, okay!” He nods quickly, forelocks falling into his eyes as he pours out a glass of water. It turns out that having slept for over twenty-four hours – as Makoto informs him – really takes out one’s strength, and Sousuke lets the brunet help him sit up while hissing in pain the damn shoulder is giving him. 

 

            With his upper body entirely supported by Makoto’s arm (he has never really noticed how strong they are until then, and what a strange thought that is), Sousuke is able to take small sips of water while Makoto holds the glass to his lips. The dark-haired man is not oblivious to the way those worried green eyes are never strayed from his face, his brows furrowed as if in deep thought.

 

             “You know,” Sousuke has to pause to let out an agonized groan as Makoto gingerly lets him lean back against the bed again, and once he’s able to breathe properly and the pain has dulled to a small pool of heat, he continues teasingly, “You know, if you keep frowning like that, you’ll have wrinkles before you hit thirty.” 

 

            Makoto looks at him as if he’s lost his mind, jade irises searching for something that he seems unable to find. “You got shot, Sousuke. You’ve had two bullets in your body and they have to perform surgery to remove them. And then the wound on your shoulder somehow got infected and you were in a fever that didn’t seem like it would come down at the time, and I just.” He clamps his mouth shut, as if he’s suddenly noticed that he’s talking too much, but Sousuke wants him to go on, wants to hear that warm, concerned voice. 

 

             “You just?” Sousuke prompts. 

            Makoto’s fingers gather into a fist, and he’s shaking as he looks up to meet Sousuke’s eyes. “After all of that, how can you still stay so fucking cheerful?” 

 

             “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss,” Sousuke observes thoughtfully, a grin pulling at his lips. 

 

             “Be serious!” 

 

             “Shhh!” The elderly man on the adjacent bed glares at them with all the energy and irritation an 80-year-old can muster. 

 

             “I’m so sorry, sir,” Makoto turns around and apologizes, the furious – or perhaps frustrated – expression he was wearing a moment ago disappears and he’s the same Makoto Tachibana that Sousuke grows to know over the five months he’s worked for the family: kind, gentle, always thinking of others before himself, and yeah, sometimes he gets afraid over the silliest of things, but that’s part of his charm, too. 

 

            Makoto turns back to him with a relieved sigh after he’s placated the man, and Sousuke can’t help but laugh at the embarrassed expression on the brunet’s face, though the pain from his injuries shuts him up pretty quickly. 

 

             “Anyway,” Makoto starts again after awhile, eyes averted now that he seems to have calmed down from whatever has been bothering him earlier, “I’ll go get a nurse to check on you.” He’s about to get up from the chair, but Sousuke’s arm is quicker, weak fingers clasping lightly around the other man’s wrist. 

 

             “Wait. Why?” 

 

            “Why what?” Makoto tilts his head to the side in confusion. 

 

             “Why did you refuse to go without me?” Sousuke wants to know, but his tone somehow remains neutral. 

 

             “Why did you risk your life to save mine?” Makoto counters, though not unkindly. 

 

            Sousuke laughs with gasps of throbbing pain in between. “That one’s easy. Because it’s my job, Mr. Tachibana; I get paid so I can make sure _you_  don’t get shot at.”

 

             “Bullshit,” Makoto snaps, this time a little sharper and he doesn’t even look sorry about it. Honestly, Sousuke is just a tiny bit impressed. “And don’t start with the whole ‘Mr. Tachibana’ thing again. We’re beyond that.”

 

             “Are we?” Sousuke is having too much fun riling up the usually mild young man, a grin is threatening to show but he reins it in. 

 

            “If we aren’t, then what was that kiss about?" Makoto stops immediately when he realizes what just came out of his mouth.

 

            There it is – the question that has been on both men’s minds since it happened, and now that it’s out in the open, neither of them seems to have the ideal answer. 

 

            “To shut you up and try to get you to listen to me?” The lilt at the end of the statement makes it sound like a question more than anything else, and Sousuke inwardly cringes. Nobody would buy that sad excuse. 

 

             “Do you usually go around kissing people on the mouth when they talk too much?” Makoto’s tone is dry with sarcasm; it’s such a huge contrast from his usual temperament that Sousuke is having a hard time controlling his brain-to-mouth filter.

 

             “Just you,” Sousuke admits without pause, and bites his lip to shut himself up when he knows the two simples words already convey way too much. “You’re trying to sidetrack me, aren’t you? I asked you a question first.” 

 

            Makoto is about to argue, but he also knows how unyielding his bodyguard can get when it comes to certain things, so he doesn’t bother, just sighs in resignation and looks to the side, ignoring the way Sousuke’s teal eyes are gazing at him, silently waiting. 

 

            Makoto clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable at being put on the spot, but when he finally does talk, his eyes are fierce and bright with conviction, a kind of determined fire lighting up the emerald vibrancy. “I didn’t want to leave without you because I didn’t want you to get hurt as a result of me being unable to protect myself, and before you say anything,” Makoto sees that Sousuke is about to disagree, “yes, I know you’ve said it’s your job and that you get paid to do it, but you didn’t need to risk your life, not like that; it just didn’t make sense! No one will blame you for running away in that situation, and yet… you keep putting yourself in danger and I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid of me to overthink this, but I’d like to believe that you’re not doing this out of sheer duty as my bodyguard but as something more than that, and if that’s the case, then I…” 

 

            He falters, unsure of how to go on because the more he talks, the less sense Makoto feels like he’s making and he thinks he’s just making a fool of himself at this point. There is an excruciating moment when Makoto is half-expecting Sousuke to laugh at his rambling and that will be the end of that. Sousuke will get better eventually and he’ll rejoin the Tachibana security team; Makoto will go on with his life as a college student, and his broken heart will mend with time, probably. 

 

            “You’re not wrong, you know,” Sousuke begins in a soft voice, and Makoto’s daydream is instantly shattered. "It might have started out as just a job, and to tell you the truth, being a rich man's son's personal guard dog wasn't my life's noblest goal." He chuckles but there is no humour in it, only a hint of bitterness and self-depreciation. 

  


            "You were a police officer before, right? Was that...?" 

  


            Sousuke nods. "I knew what I wanted to be when I grow up since I was six years old and that dream has never changed. I guess I was lucky in that regard - I knew what I was working towards earlier on and I was able to achieve it, too." 

  


            "So, what happened?"

  


            Sousuke knows that he's asking why he's not in the police force anymore, and that has always been a sore subject for him, so he often tries to avoid talking about it as soon as it was brought up. 

 

            "Let's leave that dull story for another day," he merely says with a weak smile, and there's a flash of sadness crossing the dark-haired man's features before it disappears behind a stoic mask. Makoto decides to leave it at that.

 

            "Hey, help me up?" 

 

            With a little shuffling and more pained curses from the injured man, Makoto manages to hoist him up in an awkward sitting position that doesn't cause too much discomfort for his shoulder.

 

            "Like I said, you're not wrong in that if it had just been another job, I probably wouldn't have tried as hard. I mean, I still wouldn't leave you behind; I may be an asshole sometimes but I do take my responsibilities very seriously when it comes to my work," Sousuke pauses here before he presses on after taking a deep breath. "For one thing, I'd never kiss you if I didn't..." He swallows, "...if I didn't feel strongly about you."

 

            As the words get released from his mouth along with the long hidden sentiment buried in his heart, Sousuke feels lighter, but at the same time he can feel heat flooding his cheeks and he attempts to hide it by looking to the side and away from the speechless man. 

 

            "Oh." 

 

            Sousuke turns back with a frown, because really? That's the reaction he's getting for basically putting his heart on his sleeve for once in his life? That's not how it's going to go down, not if Sousuke can help it. 

 

            "Which is to say, Makoto, that I'd lay down my life to protect you because you're important to me... Uh, what the hell are you doing?" In the middle of all this, Sousuke suddenly finds himself in the arms of the brunet and despite the light pressure of his embrace, Sousuke can feel the other man's body heat eminating against his skin and the thin material of his hospital gown is not helping matters at all.

 

            "To stop you from saying more idiotic things," Makoto mutters against his good shoulder, and Sousuke wishes he can see the expression he's wearing. 

 

            "Makoto..." His hand winds up to touch the back of Makoto's head, and his hair is even softer than he has imagined. He closes his eyes, feeling the inhales and exhales from the man holding him, the ache and weakness momentarily forgotten as he breathes him in.

 

            "What good are you if you're going to end up dead, huh? Who's going to protect me then?" There is something unbelievably fragile and gentle yet completely fearless in the way Makoto's looking at him, the soft green of his irises vibrant with resolve, his mouth set in a firm line.

 

            Sousuke can't stop himself; he has no need to hold back now.

 

            He pulls Makoto forward - with such startling force that Makoto almost collapses entirely on Sousuke if it weren't for the arm that narrowly supports himself on the other side of Sousuke's body on the mattress - and then they're kissing. 

 

            This time, they aren't in immediate danger, and blood isn't roaring a storm in their ears or running down dust-coated skin; it's a delicate touch of lips, fingers running through hair and curious digits tracing cheekbones and jaw lines. They can hear their own heart beats - thump thump, thump thump - steady as a drum. 

 

            Only when they become aware of the applause and cheering from the other patients and their families in the room do they break apart, each flushing a dashing shade of red with Makoto apologizing incessantly. 

 

            "I won't end up dead, Makoto," Sousuke continues as if they have never been interrupted by the kiss that Makoto can still taste, his hand loosely holding onto Makoto's warm one as his thumb traces patterns on his skin. 

 

            "Is that a promise?" 

 

            "I'll try my best not to die in the foreseeable future," Sousuke only allows, rolling his eyes. 

 

            He hates making promises he knows he can't keep. It's almost as bad as outright lying. "How does that sound?" He gives the brunet a cocky grin.

 

            "Okay." Makoto just replies with that warm, dazzling smile of his. 

 

            For now, it's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve only proofread it once and this was pretty rushed so please excuse any mistakes you might find!


End file.
